Month: November 2016

The words were a gentle whisper, a breath caressing the young woman’s ear. She could hear the tittering laughs of others around her, a ribbon of muslin tied tight over her eyes.

She rose to the tips of her toes and her fingers brushed something warm. She chased to grasp it, her foot twisting: her body falling to the ground. There was a gasp.

“It’s alright” the girl said as she slipped off the blindfold.

The eyes of the other slaves were fixed on the open door.

“I’m,… sorry Misses. We were just playing,…”

(c) Tim Austin 2016. Image by Stelios Kazazis via Unsplash.

My word today was “Pantry” – what story would you write if that was the word you were given? That’s the challenge: you have 100 words with “Pantry” as your title. Write it, link it back to me and let’s see what you can do!

Today’s word was donated by Nthato Morakabi, a fellow short story writer and journalist from Sunny South Africa. You can find out more about him at http://nthatomorakabi.com/.

First up is A House Mouse at Christmas!

A limited edition, handmade children’s tale, House Mouse is also personalised and customised for whomever reads it. Once ordered you’ll be sent a personalisation form. Return it to me and the book will be adapted so that your son, daughter, niece, nephew or partner becomes the hero of the book – along with their friends and pets!

For a snippet to whet your appetite, listen to an example of the first chapter by clicking here.

Hattie held the leaf high, watching as the blackened surface melted and crumbled, the wind snapping the stem and sending the remains twisting to oblivion. Her eyes focused beyond it: to the greenhouse stretching high above, its precious cargo of rare species now writhing beneath a sea of tiny black beetles. Hattie remembered the first watering of each plant trapped inside: her tears gave final succour to the earth below.

Four propellers cut through the air – interminable and unending as the aircraft chased the setting sun.

Birds flew close to the white beast as it whistled above the cliff. It had done so countless times. Lights blinked and cameras focused, mapping and fixing its target: the endless dusk, high above the world.

The old man watched each face as his motorcade weaved through the cheering crowd. Some hadn’t eaten for days, their hollow eyes begging his blessing.

Through the car’s speakers, a voice was listing the itinerary of the day.

“At 8 you have the talk in the main square. We’ve already prepared it – the usual concern for the poor, a wish to heal old wounds and reach across divides.”

The old man smiled to the crowd.

“Later, we need to discuss the portfolio. $30bn is still tied up in Switzerland.”

“Leave it there,” the old man growled. “All of it.”

(c) Tim Austin, 2016. Image by Nacho Arteaga via Unsplash.

“Saint” was suggested by bestselling author Sue London, whose various (superb!) works can be found on Amazon, here, alongside other outlets. If following people on Twitter is your bag, you can find Sue @cmdrsue.

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